


Home

by fuckyeahlucifersupernatural



Series: Half Of You [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 09:04:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1118047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural/pseuds/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucifer helps Sam find a sense of home in his room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** This is fan-run and this writer is not officially affiliated with the CW Network, Kripke Enterprises, Warner Bros., and other official affiliates tied to the TV Show "Supernatural." This user does not claim ownership to the official content of Supernatural and does not seek profit off of the work produced presently. Plagiarism of this current story will not be tolerated and will be reported following AO3's terms of services. The stories, additional characters I create, are mine. This story was not created for profit. Making profit is deemed copyright infringement unless sanctioned by copyright holders (i.e. CW Network, Kripke Enterprises, Warner Bros., etc.). Copyright infringement can range from paying a fine to actual jail time. Please do not claim this story as yours! Please do not sell this story! Please do not reproduce this story! All violators will be reported and dealt with severely! 

“So what do you think about us heading out to catch a flick?” 

Dean’s leaning against his doorframe, already dressed to go, hands shoved in his pockets. Sam shifts on the bed where his work is laid out, blinking in surprise before his brows furrow.

“Catch a flick?” Sam repeats slowly, arching a brow and Dean giving an equally slow nod.

“Yes, Sam. It means heading out to watch a movie. I wanna see the new Thor one. We can all geek out together or something — put that cheese powder on the popcorn. You try the ranch one and I’ll try the nacho one,” Dean explains before he’s grinning, as if the slapped on cheesy grin will coax Sam out of the bunker. 

Sam scoffs, lips briefly pulling into an amused smile, “Uh…I’m okay. Really.”

It takes half an hour to pull Sam off of the bed, grumbling about work needing to be done but gets dressed under Dean’s ‘encouragement’. The encouragement may have consisted of closing a handful of tomes and stealing one until Sam’s complaints died into a defeated groan. Sam is slipping into his shoes; Dean calls it success. 

Heading out to the movies wasn’t his idea, it was Lucifer’s. The archangel hovered close to his left shoulder and asked if he could pull Sam away for half the day. He wanted to “do something special” and Dean’s not sure what “special” really means when it comes from Satan. In the end, Dean can’t believe he’s actually going to help the King of Assholes out, but he’s doing it. 

He’s helping an ancient being who still can’t put on his shirt correctly. Dean snickers about it the whole way to the movies, Sam shooting him worrying looks. 

Lucifer waits till the boys have left before padding on bare feet to Sam’s room. It smells of old books and laundry detergent, looking pitifully the same. While Dean’s room was a near perfect representation of his character, Sam’s room was more of an office. There was nothing unique hanging around or anything that signified that this was Sam Winchester’s room. His clothes were neatly tucked into drawers and any mementos of Sam’s were shoved in a backpack sitting beside the desk. 

“This isn’t home, so why bother?” Sam replied once when Lucifer inquired on how bare it is. 

It certainly isn’t Lucifer’s home, either, despite the fact he has grown enamored with his little garden and the bizarre concepts of the bunker. The observatory is his room and space, terrifyingly pleased when Dean suggested moving an actual bed into the space one morning. While Heaven will always be his home, despite there being no chances of returning, he could make the bunker his second home. So why not apply the same to Sam? 

On bare feet and inside-out shirt, he moves diligently to the garden where he has carefully moved some of the blooming flowers into mason jars. Kevin helped when he realized Lucifer was using the bunker’s mugs and glasses as pots, hastily jumping in and directing him to spare mason jars in one of the rooms. The archangel hummed and worked diligently, patting the soil in and making his way carefully to Sam’s room. There he’d neatly arrange them, moving boxes and books away into the shelves to make room for the brightly colored flowers. 

There was a quiet satisfaction in sharing his creation with Sam and he hopes Sam will enjoy them, too. 

It takes an hour until Lucifer is done, fidgeting about and taking a step back to eye his work with a critical eye. He wishes he could fly to Flagstaff and pick some souvenirs for Sam, knowing there is a fond place for the city in his heart. Or perhaps push his way into the past and pick treasured toys that have been thrown away due to time and age. Or perhaps paint the walls into Sam’s favorite color, but he has no clue how to paint or where to buy paint. Grumbling at his own inadequacy at being unable to provide more, he closes the door to Sam’s room and waits eagerly for the boys to arrive. 

It takes another hour before the two walk in, Lucifer moving to meet them from his spot in the main room.

“Dude, you’re bringing dirt into the place. You have to wear shoes when you go outside,” Dean complains, taking an angry slurp from the soda in his hand. Lucifer eyes his feet for a moment, covered in soil, before taking a step back to look at the scatter of leftover soil. The archangel makes a sound and stares expectantly at Dean to clean it. “Oh, you’re an asshole,” Dean growls, Sam already leaving them to return back to his room. 

Lucifer only gives a cool smile and follows after Sam, “You should see it, too. Or would you rather clean the mess first?” 

Dean curses him under his breath, only pausing when a ‘ _holy shit_ ’ cuts through loudly. Dean hurries over, squeezing into the doorframe to stand by Sam, gaping with his brother at the slight transformation. “Holy shit is right,” Dean whooshes out, urging Sam to move further into his room. 

The blond leans against the doorframe, watching quietly Sam examine his room. “I know this isn’t home for you, Sam. I know I can’t bring you Flagstaff and the Impala into this room. But I figured that doesn’t mean bits and pieces of home can’t come to you. I can’t give you the forrest in the state that I am, but I can give you this…” Lucifer explains softly, Sam turning to face him with a gentle smile that gets Dean intervening with a solo of gagging noises. 

“Amount of hormones in this room is giving me cramps. I’m going to ditch this before we all start slow dancing,” Dean cuts in brusquely, moving over to Lucifer to clap him on the shoulder. Dean awards him with a grateful look on his way out and a “thanks” before leaving Sam and Lucifer alone in the room. 

Sam’s the one to break the distance between them, moving over to the blond to pull him into a tight embrace. Lucifer blinks in surprise at the gesture, not quite sure what is the appropriate way to respond. He scurries through Nick's memories, but this new contact between Sam is distracting. Sam’s this incredible source of warmth and he never realized how large his hands were until he feels the expanse of each palm against his back.

“How…how do I respond?” Lucifer finally asks with a huff in disbelief at himself. 

The hunter’s chuckle is hot against his neck as is Sam's chest pressing into his, feeling his body hum with energy at the close proximity of both archangel and true vessel. “Put your arms around me. Just like what I’m doing,” the hunter explains patiently and Lucifer does so, letting his chin rest on Sam’s shoulder. Sam gives a sound of approval, pulling him in closer. It’s a gesture Lucifer is becoming fond over, mimicking Sam’s body. He can feel the hunter’s spine against his fingers through his shirt and he fights the itch to trace it. 

“Thank you. I really love this gift,” Sam thanks near his neck before pulling away, “It feels like home already.” 

They share a smile before parting ways, the archangel spending the rest of the week in a blissful daze. 

It _does_ feel like home.


End file.
